Flu Shot

Today our little family took an afternoon outing to Spork for Baby J's 9 month check up (one month late). He was such a happy little fellow, crawling around the office, standing on everything, shaking his head "no," interjecting into my conversation with the nurse with his "ha ha huh huh" fake laugh. This kid makes me laugh. He is in the 95th percentile for height and the 60th for weight. Another string bean in the family. When the nurse left to prep for his immunizations she asked if we would all like flu shots too. "Sure," I responded, looking at the husband who was nodding, and then at Atrain, who (thankfully) was too busy teasing J to hear what the nurse had asked me. "We won't tell him until it happens," I said to the husband, who agreed to my devious plan.

With Atrain, there are some situations that I should never prepare him for--not many, but there are definitely a few. Getting a flu shot is at the top of the list. Last year I tried to prep him for his flu shot a couple of weeks in advance. That ended with a disastrous, growling, wailing, crying, gnashing of teeth, "Doctor, DON"T TOUCH ME!," episode at our local clinic. He was completely hysterical up until the moment it happened. He watched himself get poked, didn't even wince, and never shed another tear. So, the nurse's suggestion was divine providence.

The nurse came back with baby J's shots in hand. She poked him four times. He wailed. I hated it, and mentally reprimanded myself multiple times for forgetting his blanket. I got a shot. The husband got a shot. And, Atrain was half way out the door when I picked him up and said, "time for your little shot." He threw his head back, roared in disapproval, and then watched as the nurse lifted up his sleeve and stabbed his little arm with the needle. Not even a twitch. It was over almost before it started, and Atrain was pretty proud of his (non)decision to get a flu shot. I was pretty proud of it too.